


Recognizing Rock Bottom

by MapsMizoguchi



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: M/M, PWP, Warehouse sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 07:39:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6414808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapsMizoguchi/pseuds/MapsMizoguchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set between 2x03 and 2x04.</p><p>Quentin Lance's life is a mess and doing something reckless is his specialty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recognizing Rock Bottom

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me while binge watching Arrow and I couldn't get it out of my head.
> 
> Special thanks to my beta temporalheadache for suffering through me writing this.

Quentin Lance's life was a wreck. That was his excuse for skulking around the more run down area of the Glades on a Thursday night. If asked he'd never admit he was looking for the Vigilante, but he felt like he needed to find him, confront him, maybe blame him for the past few weeks.

 

After the Dollmaker, all his previous failures were weighing on him more than ever: Sara's death, his divorce from Dinah, and his estrangement from Laurel. Not to mention, after all the shit with the Vigilante he'd lost the trust of his department, lucky to even have his job and not find himself curled up again in the bottom of a bottle. He wanted to feel like he hit rock bottom the same way the rest of his life had.

 

Oliver Queen wasn't the source of all his problems, but he damn well played a heavy hand in everything spiraling apart. Quentin still couldn't prove that Queen was the Vigilante, and he couldn't even tell if he needed him to be anymore. Queen and the Vigilante had both done their part in destroying what little he had built.

 

Catching sight of a dark green figure heading into a warehouse down the street, he jogged in that direction. "Hey! Where do you think you're going!?" he yelled. He could see some gang bangers hobbling away quickly the other side of the block. The Vigilante must have just finished roughing up some of the less savoury locals. There wasn't much left for him to do but follow the figure into one of the many abandoned warehouses in the area.

 

"Detective Lance." The Vigilante stopped, back to him. Infuriating voice changer switched on.

 

Quentin scowled, as if he didn't know. "Officer Lance, thanks to you."

 

"I know. I'm.." There was a pause, like the other man was unsure what to say. "I'm sorry. I know you took a risk helping me. I never meant for this to impact your position on the force."

 

His lips twitched as he walked closer to the hooded figure. "You never meant it to impact my position on the force?" He stopped just a foot away, not quite in the Vigilante's personal space, but enough to be threatening. "Well that's all nice of you to say, but the job has been the last thing I could count on during all this _shit_ you've been putting me through."

 

His anger got the better of him and he shoved the hooded figure against a nearby support pillar. In the dim light, it was impossible to see more the just the outline of his face under the hood. They locked eyes for a moment, the air tense but unsure. Quentin didn't know what he was doing, but being reckless was his specialty now, wasn't it?

 

Taking a swing at the Vigilante probably wasn't the best plan Quentin had ever had, but he tried none the less. The Vigilante blocked it almost effortlessly.  He seemed like he was going to say something, so Quentin cut him off by throwing a quick left hook that actually caught the other man off guard. There was a sickening crack of bone connecting. In a split second the Vigilante was on him, a quick punch to his side and responding punch to his jaw. The fight was quick; Quentin held his own, but his sloppy angry punches were no match for the Vigilante's quick tactical strikes.

 

Eventually the Vigilante knocked out his knees and Quentin dropped down onto the floor. Before he could move, the Hood was on top of him, straddling him and pinning his wrists. They were so close, he could feel the other man's breath on his face.

 

"What are you doing, Lance." The Vigilante growled not a question, but a demand.

 

The sound was low, barely above a whisper, but the rumble of the Vigilante's voice went straight to Quentin's groin. Already half hard from the adrenaline of the fight, he squirmed in the Vigilante's grasp, simultaneously frustrated and stimulated by the restricted movement. "I don't fucking know!" he snarled.

 

He felt the Vigilante's grip loosen, and his weight shift slightly. "Look..." He trailed off, at a loss for words again.

 

Quentin rolled his eyes. He was tired of being felt sorry for. He quickly pulled his wrists free of the other man's grasp and grabbed him by the neck, pulling him down, crushing their mouths together in a ragged kiss. He could taste of stale coffee, fast food, and blood. The Vigilante must have split his lip earlier, the coppery tang giving an edge to the predatory and desperate kiss. All teeth and tongue, this was just a much a fight as the blows earlier had been. Their bodies rocked against one another, hips connecting, pressing their straining erections together.  Both men gasped at the stimulation, continuing to buck against each other, neither willing to give up the sensation.

 

He didn't waste any time, not wanting to give his brain a chance to catch up with what  a terrible idea this was. He grabbed at the Vigilante's shirt as the other man unclasped his quiver, throwing it to the side.  Before he even had a chance to pull at the zipper he was pinned down again.

 

"The hood stays on."

 

"I hope you don't think this was some grand plan to find out your secret identity." The other man started to unbutton his uniform shirt. He was getting impatient at the slowness. "Just rip it, I have other fucking shirts." That seemed to be the permission needed, as his shirt was ripped opened, buttons scattering across the floor.

 

Cool gloved hands moved teasingly down his chest. God, yes, this was what he wanted. Something rough, dirty, almost impersonal despite how personal it was. He hissed as the hands moved lower, arching into the touch, stopping only briefly to take off his belt and pants. Quentin tensed as the other man pulled out his aching hard on. The first touch was careful, the Vigilante running the smooth leather just barely over the foreskin, sending a shiver down his spine. Then the other man grasped him by the length and started to pump. He moaned loudly at the touch. "I sound like a whore."

 

The Vigilante must have heard, as there was a low chuckle, and then he leaned close, almost whispering "You're mine tonight." He shouldn't have enjoyed it, but he did, arching up into his hand. Then suddenly, this wasn't enough. He needed to feel the other man's skin, to know he was wanting this as much as he was.

 

He reached out to pull down the zipper on the hooded man's tunic. He was able to zip it down half way before the Vigilante pushed his hand away and leaned back on his knees, cruelly taking his hands away from the cop's painfully hard erection. It was worth the indiscretion as the younger man pulled down the zipper to reveal a strong chest marred with scars and tattoos. He only had a second to wonder about toll this lifestyle had on someone, as the figure continued down to his leather pants to pull out his fully erect cock.

 

Leaning back down, he grabbed both their hard ons in his hand and started stroking them together. The cop took this opportunity to grab the younger man by the neck and pull him back into a breathless kiss. Just  as predatory and desperate as the one before, but this time with hands roaming over soft skin and pulling hips closer together. Eventually a leather clad hand flicked the older man's nipple and he groaned, breaking the kiss.

 

"You know," he said, panting, "this - _ahn_ \- is fun, but could we take this the next step."

 

The Vigilante didn't say anything, but slowed down his stroking of their erections, eventually stopping and moving to take off his gloves.

 

"Wait! Uh, leave them on," Quentin asked quickly, trying not to feel the heat in his face, hoping the other man couldn't see. He didn't want any kindness in this.

 

The hooded man held his gaze as he lowered his hand back to Quentin's erection, rubbing his index and middle fingers over the precum drenching the head. After a what felt like an eternity he moved his hand lower. The slick leather clad fingers circled his entrance, teasing.

 

"Are you sure?" It was asked almost tenderly.

 

He nodded, not trusting his voice. His body was aching for this.

 

Slowly the first digit was pushed in. He hissed and jerked at the feeling at first, both aroused and tense at the stretching. He let the feeling of the burn wash over him as he adjusted; it had been awhile since he'd done this. Just as the finger found a rhythm a second one was added. He bit his hand to stifle another moan as both fingers pushed in deep, brushing his prostate.

 

Too soon the fingers were removed. A disappointed sigh escaped his lips at the loss of the feeling. The Vigilante leaned back on his heels and Quentin could hear the rustle of ripped packaging and the snap of latex. He laughed. "Do you always come prepared for a quick fuck on a warehouse floor?"

 

"I like to be prepared. You'd be surprised at my popularity." He could actually hear the other man smirk as he said it. "Now get on your knees."

 

The cop groaned out of frustration and mild embarrassment at the lengths he was willing to go for this. Once he was on all fours the other man grabbed his hips, lining himself up. He felt the pressure against his entrance, and felt himself slowly open up as the younger man pressed in. They both gasped and hissed as they adjusted to the pressure and tightness. Slowly, once the Vigilante was fully seated, he started rocking his hips with each push. Eventually, he found a steady rhythm with one hand holding Quentin's hip and the other stroking his neglected cock.

 

He was just starting to lose himself in the feeling, the rhythm of Vigilante bent over him, hot breath against his neck, quiet panting barely audible in the empty building as he slid into him over and over. Then the other man bit his exposed shoulder lightly as he thrust and Quentin groaned. But it wasn't enough, a love mark wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to feel used and broken like the rest of his life. "If you're going to -<em>ahh</em>\- mark me," his breath hitched, he wasn't sure if it was due to the hooded figures hand tightening, or what he was about to say, "fucking DO IT!"

 

There was a beat of silence, just panting and the sound of bodies sliding together and then the Vigilante bit down. Hard. Quentin screamed. Some mixture of pleasure and pain that he couldn't even determine. And that was it, his body clenched and he was coming hard onto the dusty floor. Behind him he could feel the younger man tense as his rhythm became erratic and he came as well, thrusting deeply until he collapsed over Quentin's back.

 

They stayed like that for a few minutes,  regaining their composure from the shattering orgasms. The hooded figure was the first to move, pulling out with a slick wet sound. Quentin slowly stood up with as much dignity as he could muster, pulling on his pants and doing what he could with the few remaining shirt buttons, refusing to face the other man right away. He could hear the ruffle of clothing as the Vigilante did the same, and the telltale clicks of his quiver being locked back into place.

 

"Lance," the younger man said. Quentin turned to face him in the dim light. "This was an experience," he could see lips quirk, "but if you ever need someone to talk to. I want to help," a pause, "and I don't just mean this."

 

That was not what he was expecting to hear, especially from the Vigilante of all people. But it was... nice. "Uh, thanks. For everything." He waved a hand vague at the ground where they had been moments earlier.

 

Before he could say anything else the Vigilante cut in with, "Enjoy the rest of your evening, Officer Lance. I'm sure we'll meet again soon," and disappeared into the darkness of the warehouse.

 

Quentin stood there for a few minutes, trying to process what had just happened, and trying to collect the few buttons he could see. He sighed and rubbed his neck, looking into the darkness where the other man had gone. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting from this evening, but he couldn't argue with what he got. Maybe things would start to improve from here on out.


End file.
